Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the storm brewing inside David. His father, a staunch Catholic, had informed the family of his intention to become a Wiccan. David sat on the worn couch, his hands clasped in his lap, a knot forming in his stomach. He hadn't touched the book he was supposed to read. He hadn’t even opened it.

The living room felt too bright. He reached for the remote, finding himself unable to focus on the shows. The colors seemed too vibrant, the sounds too sharp. He wandered into the hallway, then back again. His mother was humming in the kitchen, a cheerful sound that grated on his nerves. He felt a profound sense of inertia, a weight that anchored him to the spot.